Sunscreen, water and a see-through cover-up.

Just last week, your older sister bought a translucent blue and green sarong to wear over her swimsuit. You have been fascinated with it ever since. With no one home to stop you, you sneak into her room and steal it.

Laughing and smiling, you then wrap yourself in the silky fabric, feeling it slide, cool and smooth, against your naked body while you dance downstairs. You throw sunscreen and a bottle of water into a floppy canvas beach-bag and then charge out the door before your fear can get the better of you.

The run toward the beach is exhilarating. School is in session and all the commuters are already on the highway, so only a few people are out and about. The sarong probably looks opaque at a distance, at least you hope so. None of the handful of retirees or delivery men you see on the streets shout or even look at you twice during the run.

You stagger to a stop at the neglected boardwalk, your heart beating like the wings of a cicada, buzzing in your chest. You see a few determined surfers way out in the breakers. A few joggers running along the boardwalk, but almost no one else is in sight. A suburban beach is pretty empty in the early hours on a weekday.